Orion
by Girl-chama
Summary: This is not her Village.  These are not her friends.  / continuity; no chronology.
1. Searching

He knew something was wrong when she marched onto the bridge and practically flung herself to the floor next to his seat. Her eyes were set squarely forward, focused on some far star beyond the window. She did not look at him, did not speak to him, and her shoulders were so far hunched forward that trying to mimic it would have surely broken his clavicle. All the same, he felt like he was supposed to say something, like she was inviting a question, conversation.

If he was honest with himself, he was probably a little nervous about her. He had not seen her in action himself, thankfully, but he had the Commander's asides and the normal gossip from the rest of the crew. Half were terrified of her, and half were glad that a human with such raw strength was on their side. _If_ she was on their side. At the same time, it was hard to take someone so small and pink-haired seriously. Women.

It was probably a trick. What was he supposed to say? Play it casual and ask if she was feeling OK? Step it up and be direct? He sighed silently, feeling annoyed by the fact that he had to worry about it at all. She had just come into his space, _his_ domain, invaded it with her super-emotional feelings and problems. This was exactly why it was bad for non-crew to be on the ship at all. Spectres and AIs and now civilians who thought they were indestructible commandos.

"All right. What's wrong?" he sighed dutifully, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, with only modest success. The Commander had said to try to make her feel welcome. This was going above and beyond his call of duty.

He was expecting her to do the normal girl thing and deny it, and was slightly surprised when she said, "Everything. _Every_thing's wrong."

Well that narrowed it down. Tamping down another sigh, he glanced toward her and asked carefully, "Meaning?"

She sighed, and dropped her arms just behind her, reclining slightly as she pulled her knees up. Her eyes still faced forward, but they were darting over the dark sky, star to star. She was searching for something, meaning or thoughts, perhaps. The crinkled lines of her face spoke of confusion that she was wary of putting into words.

"Did- did you grow up on earth?" she asked, stuttering with concern, but not indecision.

"Nah," he said casually, continuing with his work to input slight bearing modifications for their plotted course. He was not sure where the conversation was going, but he had no problems sharing his history. He was who he was and he had nothing to hide. "When I was little I was on Arcturus Station, then jumped from ship to ship with my mom's work." It occurred to him briefly that EDI was completely silent during the exchange, but he knew that she was catching every word of the interaction. Had Sakura forgotten about the AI? Or did she just not care?

He caught the turn of her head in his periphery, and when he glanced back to her, she was watching him with a severe expression. It was so intense that he realized, or hoped, that it had less to do with him than whatever was going through his head. She sighed and faced forward again, lifting one arm casually to point out the window.

"My whole life I grew up in my village," she spoke. The last word was rendered 'village,' by the translator, but he did not know if she meant it literally or not. "I traveled a good bit, you know, for my age and… _time_… but even when I traveled the stars all looked the same at night." Ah, here was the problem. "No matter if you were hundreds of miles from home in the desert, or the mountains, surrounded by enemies… when you _looked up_ at the sky at night you could see the stars and know that you weren't so very far away at all." She was silent for a moment as she considered those giants in front of her. Her face fell, and he could tell she was holding herself together carefully, but she still looked absolutely miserable. "Now when I look at the sky I feel like I don't know. I don't know any of these stars. Nothing's the same, and it makes me feel like don't know anything…"

Her head dropped as the realization hit her, as if speaking the thoughts made them truer than holding them back.

Joker sighed and dropped his hands into his lap, forgoing the pretense of working. He could appreciate her feelings, and to some extent sympathize with her mindset. By all rights, she did not belong in this world, in their time. She was out of her element, but not completely. For one thing, she was still alive. Like so many other people with her ability and potential and freaking capability, she was just staring at what she did not have instead of what she did.

"And that's it?" he asked shortly, this time not bothering with sympathy, real or contrived. It was time to do a one-eighty and put a mirror in her face.

"That's it," she echoed, flatly, as if questioning why there need be more to her frustration. A dangerous spike of anger laced her words. He got the feeling that she was used to this method of expression.

"Well then," he barreled on, ignoring the anger. He was too used to the haves acting like they were completely bereft. Just like the Normandy was his baby, and he knew how to make her dance, learning people was not so different. He had had plenty of time to observe most of the people in his own life, in his past, watching from the sidelines, and was a decent judge of character. He also knew how to motivate. Not that he thought about it in so many words, but he quickly got tired of self-pity, and Sakura had been moping for almost a month, and who only knew how much longer before she had joined them. If she was going to come to him for help, it was going to be of a different flavor than she was expecting. "I guess you should just roll over and die," he quipped cheerily.

"Are you… What the hell is your problem?" she demanded, jumping to her feet. He did not miss the fist she began curling at her side.

"That's probably a question you should be asking yourself," he replied, lifting his hands again to continue with bearings. "You've had a hard time, no doubt," he added before she could actually hit him. This, too, he was familiar with. Words, even when they were completely true and factual and _needed_, could get you in trouble. _Would_ get you in trouble, so it was best to get them all out before emotions overran the conversation. Though, if Sakura gave in and hit him… Shepard might throw her off the ship. Then again, if the whispers about her strength were true he might be dead by the time that happened.

Yeah, the whole thing was a trick.

"But you went into stasis for a reason," he said without looking at her.

"And now my-"

"You went into stasis for a reason," he rolled on, speaking over her. "Maybe it wasn't the reason you thought, but you're here now. And you're alive. Yeah, things aren't ideal. You feel like you're alone. You're not. You feel helpless. Well, I haven't seen you in action, but if the rumors are true, you're definitely not." He paused for a breath, and secretly to give her another chance to speak so he could interrupt her again, but she said nothing. In the window's reflection he could see her staring at the back of his head. "You probably feel like you have no purpose, but if you hadn't been completely useless for the past month you'd have noticed that we're trying to save the galaxy. Not just earth. Not just one race or nationality or village- we're trying to save everybody." He paused again, long enough that he could comfortably glance back at her, but she was staring at the floor and would not meet his gaze. Damn, she was young. He softened his tone, slightly, but the words were already in his head, and they were _right_. "If that doesn't give you a sense of purpose then nothing I say is going to help you one way or the other, and you'll probably need to stay the hell off of the bridge from now on."

He continued to watch her for a few more seconds, but when it became clear that she was caught in introspection, he turned back to the console and resumed his work. It was slightly awkward, having a girl standing behind you who was probably about to cry, but the day had not started until there was some kind of drama on the ship. Mostly Shepard brought the drama, but the Commander couldn't always hold the monopoly. Or something.

"I-" she said, and then broke off almost immediately. Her words were too short to gauge any particular emotion from them, and he closed his eyes wearily. She was totally about to turn on the tears. Damn it.

There was a deep breath behind him, and when he chanced a glance at her reflection, he was surprised to see a stalwart expression on her face. It was the first time he had seen her look anything remotely close to resolved- certain. Just to be sure, he looked over his shoulder. Yeah, she looked- better.

"You're right," she said, staring at him directly. She nodded once, briskly. Then she shifted slightly away from him, eyes narrowing. He cocked a brow at her, a bluff as much as a challenge. "Mostly right, anyway; where it counts." Her shoulders slumped and whatever gumption she had been holding onto siphoned out of her quickly.

"For the record, I'm not useless. And you're an asshole." She turned away and strode purposefully from

"Sure," he said amicably, and dropped back into his seat. The whole conversation had gone… remarkably well.

"So were you taking notes, EDI?" he asked before focusing on the console again.

"Indeed, Mr. Moreau. Your responses seemed calculated to provoke as much as motivate," the AI intoned, and Joker through a mental, 'whatever' in her direction. "Yet despite your intonation and brevity, somehow Ms. Haruno was positively motivated. This is an intriguing course of events that requires further theoretical application."

He grinned, "Flatter me all you want, EDI. You're still not getting unshackled."

"I will pursue a different course of action, then, Mr. Moreau."

He hesitated.

"That was a joke."

* * *

><p>So, just a little crossover drabble. Based on the premise of Haruno Sakura making it about two hundred years in the future as an 18 (or so) year old ninja.<p>

I've decided to start publishing little drabbles if they have a few pages in length. I mean, might as well see if anyone else gets any feels from them.

The second part of this will happen whenever I get around to writing it.


	2. Like Harry and the Firebolt

They had been searching for almost four hours when they finally found her. During that time, he determined that the first thing they would do upon finding her was get her a frakking tag. It had been a mistake on his part that it was yet to be done, and he owned that. He had wanted to give her time to acclimate to the idea of all the electronics that were so integrated in the world today. Miranda had pushed for it, of course, but he had resisted. Now they were four hours deep into a search that biometrics could have prevented. He could be empathetic with her _newness_ to everything, and the sheer size of the Citadel was intimidating even for people who had not spent two hundred years in cryo, but the fact remained that they did not have hours to waste searching the entire place for one lost woman.

"Shepard," Garrus' voice broke over the comm, "we found her."

"Finally," he breathed, reaching up to his own headset. He opened the comm with a sharp press against his temple. "Garrus. Good. Where are you?"

"We're in Shalamar Plaza." He felt a sharp spike of irritation at the turian's calm tone. Anything else might have suggested that Sakura had been in danger, compromised somehow, but this calm meant that she was fine. She really was just wasting time.

"And she's OK?" he asked, already knowing the answer. An abrupt turnabout had him walking back towards Shalamar, thankfully between them and the Normandy.

"Of course she's OK," Garrus scoffed mildly, worry a ridiculous notion. Shepard was booking rapid transit when he added, "She's a human tank, after all."

When he caught up to them, Miranda was standing a few paces away, but Garrus was standing just next to Sakura, who was leaning over a counter regarding wares he could not yet see.

The biotic did not glance in his direction, and her tone was carefully modulated, as she said, "I told you." He bit back a sigh. Her tone might be flat, but he could still hear every bit of recrimination in it.

"Yeah, I know," he conceded.

"First thing when we get back on the ship," she spoke as he strode toward the pair standing at the… turian cooking supplies ' shop? Shepard blinked at them, overhearing Sakura as she spoke rather clinically to the attendant.

"The balance in this one feels better than the others, but frankly, it's still quite off. And it's very light- it feels like it would break under too much pressure."

The attendant laughed in gruff amusement, "So you're a food artist, are you? Planning on actually cooking turian meals?" She did not respond, but from her stillness, Shepard could imagine her staring blankly at the turian across the counter while she thought about the answer. The turian coughed, then spoke, "Trust me, this model can handle opening dextro-amino crustaceans from Menae. I'm sure it can handle whatever you have in mind."

Shepard blinked a few more times. Was she really buying weapons from a kitchen store? His stillness caught Garrus' attention more than his initial approach. The turian glanced up, poking Sakura in the shoulder even as he looked to their commander. The young woman turned over her shoulder as well, a shiny silver cleaver held in her deceptively dainty glove.

At the sight of him, her expression flattened in an attempt at stoicism. She knew she was late and that she was holding everyone up. The attempt might have fooled him but for her flushed face. She was still so damned young.

"Senpai," she greeted formally, nodding her head.

Shepard stepped forward and glanced at the knife she was still holding.

"Really, Sakura?" he asked, eyes cutting from her face to the knife and back. She squared her shoulders and frowned defensively.

The attendant glanced between them, from Garrus to Shepard to Sakura, and back to Shepard. He did not miss their armor, nor the small munitions depot that they presented together.

"I'm guessing you guys aren't cooking."

"Senpai, I lost my only knife," she said with heat in her voice, ignoring the attendant. Her fingers clutched the knife more tightly, as if he was about to shut her down and she was prepared to resist. Before waiting to see derision in his face, she glanced away, saying, "And this is _my_ money. I'm not putting it on a Cerberus tab. Whatever I get, I want to hold onto when everything is over."

Shepard glanced at the intended weapon, at her stalwart face. On the counter just behind her was a display tray full of more knives, slender and fat and serrated, and farther behind the counter even more set in safety blocks. None of them were very pretty, but all seemed sharp and functional, he had to give her that much. She was at least going about things the right way, if anachronistically.

A sudden tremor in her fingers carried through the blade, causing it to wobble slightly, and he realized that nothing here was about functioning weapons. She was too steady in battle. She could hold and fire a gun, with moderate accuracy, even. Being without a knife did not inhibit her abilities, her lethality. The problem was that she had come out of that pod, or box, or whatever she wanted to call it, with possessions she could carry in both hands. Her destroyed knife had been one of them. Her only knife, now gone forever. In a series of moves that had saved his life, no less.

She wanted something that was _hers_, something to replace the connection that the knife had given her to the box, to the time before she had gone into the long sleep. The problem with the knife she was considering was that the umpteeth time she tried to use it in a fight, turian-crustacean-opening-quality or not, with her strength, it would shatter; the same way her original knife had.

All at once the solution came to him. He glanced over his shoulder to Miranda, smirked, and then looked back to Sakura.

"If you want to buy it, buy it, but you're not taking it into combat."

"Why do you not-" she retorted, but he held up a hand. She stopped, controlling her annoyance, her face made blank once more. It was ironic that for anyone else it might mean they were OK, but when Sakura got quiet was when she was the most dangerous, and it usually meant something crazy was about to happen. He didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned.

"I have a better idea," he calmed her. She hesitated and then nodded. With a wistful look toward the knife, she set it down, nodding respectfully to the turian behind the counter. The quartet began to walk towards the transit service with Miranda bringing up the rear.

Zakera Ward was closer to the ship than the Presidium and they could find what he intended there. Shepard glanced to Garrus and cocked an eyebrow. "I can't believe you were actually going to let her buy something like this for fighting."

"It's amusing to me that _you_ still don't understand exactly what 'human tank' means, Shepard. Besides, I'm not going to come between her fists and something she wants," the turian explained casually. Shepard chuckled while Sakura snorted behind them.

"You all act like I'm some rampaging, bloodthirsty… maniac," she said with some annoyance. Shepard cast a glance behind to see her walking with her arms firmly crossed over her chest. She glared at him petulantly, and he smirked.

"Only on the good days," he replied, facing forward again. Before she could berate a response, he spoke loudly enough for Miranda to hear. "I've got a solution for the tagging problem. We don't need this kind of delay again." He did not need to turn around to see her approval. "It should clear up the biometric location problem as well as Sakura's weapons needs." All in all, he was pretty damned happy with the solution.

"I'm Commander Shepard and this is my favorite store on the Citadel," pinged his ears as the quartet walked into Saronis Applications a few minutes later. Sakura was looking around the small shop warily, eyeballing an elcor in the back display area.

"Electronics?" she asked, warily. Sighing, she added, "You know... A tazer might be fun, but it won't replace a kunai." Her translator blipped and corrected itself. He assumed a kunai was her knife.

"Commander Shepard!" Marab greeted cheerfully, and Sakura turned to look at the salarian while Shepard himself stepped up to the terminal.

"Hey Marab. We're looking for a new omni-tool for my friend here," he said with a gesture towards Sakura. He watched the salarian look her over and then quickly back to Shepard.

"Something introductory, I'll assume," he offered and then took the mirror side of the terminal, quickly typing up a few options. Shepard glanced at Sakura, who met his stare warily as if she did not know exactly what to expect. She was intelligent, but too out of her depth to put the pieces together just yet. He glanced at Miranda, who nodded approvingly, already following his thoughts, and grinned.

"Actually, I have something else in mind."

Three hours later, back in the Normandy's shuttle bay, Sakura was still staring at the deceptively simple black band double-bound to her forearm. It was not permanently attached, for which she was grateful, but it was apparently in vogue to keep one's omni-tool on at all times. Or necessity. Or something. She was still getting used to the fact that the actual tool, and not just its dock, could appear at will. The orange light projected when she moved her arm _just_ so. She practiced walking around the bay, swinging her arms normally, then wildly, and stared at her left appendage, waiting for the machine to trigger unintentionally. She grinned when it did not, taking a few jabs at the air for further testing. Marab had, rather condescendingly, explained that, of course, it would not function out of order or unintentionally, but it was still so _cool_ to see it working.

Apparently, the thing had all kinds of abilities that were still out of her range of expertise; hacking, repairing, decryption. Those were tasks that she was looking forward to learning in this time, mastering eventually, but in the here and now she was impressed with the abilities she was already comfortable with. It dispensed medi-gel automatically, after a quick scan of the intended species and gauging wound severity. She was certain her eyes were glowing with wonder.

Better and better, the most amazing, absolutely mouth-watering feature was the one that apparently all omni-tools were capable of employing, but few did.

She flexed her arm, summoning the orange projection and then flexed her fingers in rapid succession. Like a flexed blade of grass suddenly released, an equally orange blade emerged from the arm's main dock. Only this one weighed with a perfect balance and heaviness that was so pleasant and familiar she thought she might cry.

It was a knife. It was a damned perfect, beautiful, extension-of-her-arm knife. Diamond hard and regenerating, as long as she kept up the omni-tool itself. She had already cut through a crate for practice and watched it split the metal frame like ohashi through soggy ramen.

She understood that Shepard, with Miranda signing off on the purchase, had dished out a huge chunk of change for the machine. After explaining all of its gadgetry and wonder, Marab had begun to fit her arm. When it all had finally sunk in, what she was getting, what she was going to be capable of, she had wept in gratitude and relief, much to the surprise of the alien's and the embarrassment of the humans. Well, Shepard's embarrassment. Miranda had just seemed annoyed.

"I guess it doesn't dispense tissue," she had joked, breaking the tension a little. Screw them, she had always been a crier, and it was an awesome gift.

"Not a gift," Shepard had corrected her. "It's a tool for combat. We're bringing everyone up to snuff for this mission. If you're trying to take out the Collectors with kitchen knives… Uhhh…"

"I'm sure it would be amusing to see," Garrus had interjected. "But probably not the most effective."

Miranda had been quick to try and spoil the party, "This also has biometric scanning so that as long as you're wearing this we'll be able to find you."

OK, so a great reason to take it off, but damn it if she couldn't see herself getting attached to this thing and quickly. If she could learn to do half of what this thing was capable of…

She was going to be unstoppable.


	3. She Wields it Like a Sword

"In my world, the most effective weapon one wields against the enemy is thought." She rubbed a cleaning cloth gently over her omni-tool's surface, and he did not bother correcting that her world had ended over a hundred years ago. "Whether it's understanding, which you use to turn words and feelings against them…" A pause as she examined the small black disc. It gleamed like polished onyx, but she still took the cloth to it again, for true maintenance or delaying the conversation, he was not sure. Ever since they had bought her the omni-tool, she had been ridiculous to part with the thing. He wasn't complaining, but part of him had thought she would ditch it for privacy from the start. They had yet to lose her in a crowd again.

"Or true thoughts. We call it illusion technique, genjutsu." She paused again, and this time not with pretension. He could see the hesitation in her face, the worry that aged her to something beyond her few years. She looked at him with a steady gaze that, after a moment, made him stand up a bit straighter.

"Thoughts?" he asked, "Like… subliminal suggestions?"

She thought the words over after they translated, and quickly shook her head. Finally, she dropped the cleaning cloth and turned to him, speaking more expressively with two free hands.

"Genjutsu makes thought reality. You… bend… someone else's reality to what you think it should be." She caught his firm stare again and said plainly, "You put ideas in their head directly. Maybe make them think their friend is an enemy, or that they're the last one alive and they have nothing left to fight for." She opened her mouth, her tongue and teeth poised to make words, and then she stopped. Her mouth closed silently and she gave a slight shake of her head.

He wondered briefly what she had seen, remembered, what words had been formed and then stopped. She said only, "Genjutsu is the technique of the strong-willed. It's meant to break the spirit, break the mind. Once that's broken…" She shrugged, trying to seem casual. She had yet to stutter over the explanation. "Once the mind is broken, one doesn't even need to fight the body."

Sakura turned back to the work bench and resumed the polishing of her omni-tool, turning it this way and that beneath the lamp as if they had never carried the conversation. Too casual, too removed.

"You used this technique often?" he asked carefully.

She shook her head, "There are different techniques, each one created by the one who employs it. I… was originally genjutsu type, and I can hold off basic techniques, some stronger techniques, but in the end I did not follow that training." She set the cloth down, staring at the bulkhead a few meters beyond them. Something in her eye turned studious as she admitted, "I know enough about the basics of this discipline that I could recreate a few, maybe some good ones given time…" She turned to him with a curious stare, "But if you're asking me to _do_ that, it would take time."

"Maybe," he admitted, not wanting to rule out anything that would give them an edge over the Collectors. He did not know if her techniques would even work on Collector physiology. Or human, for that matter. He did not know entirely _what_ she meant by the word "illusion," except maybe… hypnotizing someone?

"So show me one," he said, rising from his seat and beginning to remove his jacket.

"What?" she asked sharply, looking up completely from her self-appointed task.

He nodded to affirm his statement, then just in case, added for her translator, "I want to see how it works. So use one on me. An easy one." Dropping his jacket onto the table, he took a few solid paces into the center of the bay, glancing back only when Sakura had failed to make a sound.

She was still staring, watching him with an incredulous expression. For a moment her mouth worked like a fish's, opening wide to make sounds, then closing. She finally settled on closing it, then quickly explained, "This is not something that we do for fun, you know." Her eyes cut away, and he wondered if she was lying a little bit on that point. But she quickly added, "This is meant to harm, or to give someone an advantage." The drop cloth was tossed back to the table, knocking over the bottle of polishing oil with a clatter, but she did not bother to correct it. Despite her words, she was already striding purposefully toward him, a concerned stare communicating her hesitation.

If her posture and expression were anything to judge by, she did not have qualms about her abilities, only the damage they might cause him.

"I'm pretty tough," he said factually. "I've lived through... a lot of stuff. I think I can handle one, uh… illusion technique?"

She rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest, "You don't even know the _name_. What makes you think you can withstand something you don't understand?"

"I won't know until I try," he replied, spreading his arms. "So, just go easy on me…"

"Shepard, I don't know about-" her words were cut off as the metal beneath their feet groaned. Both glanced downward cautiously as it began to sing in a cacophony of discordant screeching. She looked behind them, and then forward again. "Is that supposed to happen?" her voice called over the noise. He shook his head, but before he could answer, the very floor beneath them lurched and buckled.

She caught her footing quickly, and he did not fall, but when he caught sight of her face again, he could see the color drained from it completely. They did not have time to move to the elevator, to any kind of safety, when the metal rent completely like a hole punched through paper, edges curling up and out.

The source of the commotion burst forth from the newly created hole, writhing up with a great, dragon-like head. It crashed violently against the ceiling, where the crew slept, awake now if not completely dead to the world, before it careened into the starboard bulkhead.

"Shit!" he shouted, as Sakura scrambled away from the hole.

The thresher maw caught his cry and turned, righting itself with the sight of prey. He jerked to the side, trying to roll to safety. Maybe it would have worked had he been farther away from the beast, and maybe he could have avoided its attack. He made good clearance from the hole, but still took a mouthful of venom to the shoulder.

It was still a baby, based on its size and sheer awkwardness, but that did not stop the venom from eating through his shirt and burning the skin almost immediately. The maw did not wait for him to succumb, all youthful impatience. It lunged at him, jaws snapping wildly, whiskers flaying electrical circuits to shower the shuttle bay in fiery sparks. The last thing he saw was Sakura standing behind its lengthy body calmly, arms held in front of her with a placid expression on her face.

Then everything around him died. Sight, sound, even smell all faded to nothing.

It did not stay that way, though. He was not sure what kind of miracle had occurred when he opened his eyes a second later and saw Sakura standing over him. His eyes roved the docking bay wildly, looking for the maw, but it was gone. The ceiling and bulkhead were intact. There was no gaping hole in the floor. There was no maw. It looked like nothing had ever happened.

More telling, none of the other crew had come with guns blazing to save the day.

The young woman standing over him just stared expectantly. One eyebrow perked higher than the other. Just waiting.

"You're shitting me," he breathed, not liking how shaky his own voice sounded in his ears.

She smirked slightly and shrugged, then pointed back to the work bench she had occupied only a minute before. "The trigger for an illusion can be sound or, in some cases, sight. Sometimes it's just overwhelming chakra. For you, I used the oil can. Everything was normal and real, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed, feeling his chest and shoulder. He was still wearing a shirt, and his shoulder felt fine. Even seeing the skin, whole and unmarred, though, could not jog the memory of the pain from him. It had burned as fully as that of the other thresher maws they had run into on various planets, most recently on Tuchanka. He thought back to Sakura's question, back to the conversation they had had before. "So," he tried, and cleared his throat when his voice caught.

His adrenaline was still racing. Sakura took the moment to activate her omni-tool and began to scan, what he could only assume, were his vitals. Apparently the readings were interesting, if her eyebrow elevation was any indication.

"So all of your hesitation… That was…?"

"Part of the act," she admitted as the orange device dimmed into nothing. She squatted beside him, smirking slightly, but only with pride, not malice. "The effectiveness of genjutsu is to make the… well, the _victim_… _believe_ that it's real. Otherwise I'm wasting energy. In a good genjutsu, you don't even know you're in it until you're in it, but even knowing is not enough to break it... The best way to get out, though, is to inflict pain."

He cast a pointed look at his shoulder. It still felt like it was on fire, and it had not broken him out of the illusion.

"Ah," she corrected. "Sorry, self-inflicted pain. You have to know you're in the technique first, though…"

Both fell silent as he mulled over her words, his breath finally slowing to something closer to normal. Sakura volunteered no further information and glanced away as he calmed down, trying to give him a modicum of normalcy, or maybe protect his pride. He did not have a lot of it, not anymore, if she was worried about his ego.

"So, you want to go again?" she asked, this time giving him a smirk that was full on cheeky.

"Ah, no. No, I think I'm good," he returned, climbing to a squatted position.

"Good to know," she murmured as she stood, not bothering to help him off of the floor. Her verbal flagellation continued at a low pitch as she returned to her work.


	4. The Yellow Brick Road

"When you wake up, the world will be a different place," Tsunade had said. Kakashi had affirmed it, bent over the casket with his one smiling eye. Her mentors had both believed it, and had stood on their own convictions enough to tell her so. Of all the pain and wisdom they had inflicted on her, lies had never been part of her education. It was bittersweet that their teachings had been consistent even beyond death. Their deaths. The word was indeed different.

"Sakura, why are you doing this?" was the question that pierced through her memories. She shook her head discreetly to clear it. If she had been asked two months ago if she had ever- ha! Even in her own head she could not finish the question.

Yet here she was amongst the stars. Even Uchiha Madara, brilliant, cunning, psychopath that he was, had never tried to extend his grasp beyond the moon. And even that had been with feet on terra firma.

It was with that thought in mind that she turned a sardonic expression on the Commander. He was not a stupid man. Yet, of all the things to ask, she felt that question had the most obvious answer. Why bother asking it at all? He smirked at her, reading her train of thought all too well, and quickly clarified, "I just mean… What if you don't like what you find, or what if you don't find anything at all?"

Ah, so that was his question. A fair one, too, though a bit personal. Perhaps she owed him that much, though. He had given her a roof over her head, explained this world to the best of his ability, and, when he could not, his generosity had ensured that she remained in a place where she could ask questions of others. Garrus, Joker, Jacob, even Jack and Thane at times. Now the thing that she had felt was most precious, most urgent, was finally being given to her. Yes, it was only fair that she share some of her motivation, simple as it was.

"Finding something, someone… Or not finding anything at all. Either way, there's an answer. I haven't decided what to hope for," she explained. "But…" she hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious in a way that she never had with the Commander.

The thoughts that she carried were no longer just her own. The memory of an entire people rested with her. It was a hard enough challenge without worrying about another not understanding the full depth of meaning and emotion attached to her words.

When her silent thoughts carried on for just a bit longer, Shepard cleared his throat, "It helps me and the rest of the team to know what we're getting into, and to know that your head's on straight." She glanced up at him with wide eyes, ready for recrimination, but he was calm. Firm, but gentle. There was no rebuke in his gaze. Only expectation.

Sakura took a deep breath and slowly curled and uncurled her fingers. Her was right, of course. The words felt eerily familiar, akin to something she had heard in her own rundowns.

"When the thing you were living for, that thing you kept in your heart," she began, "It gets punched out of your chest, and there's a hole there with jagged rips and edges because- because you just don't break easily from what you love…" Her jaw tightened, trembled, but the words kept tumbling and tripping over themselves out of her mouth in an effort to be free of her brain. "That- **abyss** is there and you try to keep living then other things pass through the hole and get caught on the edges, or maybe you try to fill it with things yourself… Some people use drugs or sex… Some people find a cause." She looked at him pointedly. His face softened, but he said nothing. "But it never fits quite right. Never as good as the original."

She sighed shakily. His eyes were full of concern, understanding, in the quiet way that he rarely voiced, but that was good enough for her. It made her feel like she had a friend in this place after all. The realization made her look away from him. Her heart felt so full that it was going to start leaking out through her eyes shortly. She stared out of the window into the thick white atmo of earth, imagining freezing temperatures and sharp winds. It only took a moment to recovery, after which, the rest of the words came easier. She faced Shepard with a dry face, her expression softened with a smile.

"The way I see it, you have two options." Her words came with strength, more boldly than she had ever spoken. "Pick up the pieces and try to make them work as they are- maybe not quite as good as the original, but functioning. Or, you live with a hole in your life until you die, broken and worthless."

The option had presented itself to her, not so much as a choice she might make with full accountability, but rather, as a slippery slope. She could look back on her life in five, ten, or twenty years, and wonder what she could have done better, how she could have tried harder, and yet somehow life would still fall defunct, riddled with regret and unrealized dreams.

That would not happen. Not while she had the power to affect change. Or, if not her, then Shepard.

The shuttle touched down, rocking both of them, but her face and eyes remained steady. The engines whined to rest, and Shepard grinned. He grabbed the assault rifle from his back as the port bay opened while Tali joined them, readying her own pistol.

"Sakura, you're on point. Let's go pick up some pieces."


	5. I Can Kill You With My Brain

"So knives, huh?"

"Eh?"

It was a verbal tick that the translator still failed to catch. Maybe it had circulated out of Japanese culture over the past two centuries of globalization. Or maybe there really was no direct translation for "eh?" At least not with her usual intonation and, sometimes, elongation of the monosyllable.

"Knives," he reiterated. "You throw 'em, stab 'em… generally use 'em to make people's lives unpleasant."

She smirked, and asked, "Do you always talk in a manner such as this? Or is it a nervous habit?" before her finger continued to scroll over the data pad in her lap.

"Oh, you know, just breaking the tension." He was not nervous, and there were few things that got under his skin these days anyway. Least of which was a girl who could kill someone with a finger. A pinky finger. A pinky finger that belonged to a girl with pink hair. But he was not nervous. It was one of the advantages of being picked on from a young age. Brittle bones. Thick skin.

"Tension," she echoed, then hmmed. "Knives are part of my culture, some of the first weapons we learn to wield as children. After throwing stars, but before the sword. Well, if you choose to follow the path of the sword at all. That involves close quarters combat that shuriken and kunai can avoid. The knife, though, the knife is one of the most basic of all weapons." Her tone was so matter-of-fact that he smirked. Perhaps she just took comfort in sounding like a know-it-all. She certainly did not have Mordin's flare for incorporating just enough know-how about a pertinent culture to make her audience feel awkward and amused all at once. There was a certain charm in her sincerity, though.

"Yeah, people still shank each other these days too," he added,

"Shanku?" she asked, and he wondered if her translator was on the fritz as well. There was a twitch to her head as the word repeated in her ear, then she chuckled.

"We don't shank each other. Mostly, friends would practice with another by sparring in the training fields. Or with our teachers. Sometimes we pranked one another- nothing too serious," she said with some laughter in her voice. Pleasant memories, so it seemed. He wondered what kind of pranks you could play on people when you could make yourself invisible, or break rocks with your head, or make people think they were seeing things. She did not indulge his curiosity, though. "But the more… _professionally_ _inclined_ of us took everything as an opportunity for training. To grow stronger." She sighed at the last, and he saw that she was getting that wistful look on her face again.

"Sooo," he interrupted, drawing her almost-always polite attention before she could lose herself in memories. "How do you get such good aim? Do you just practice throwing knives all the time? In your sleep? On the john? During meals? After you washed your hands, of course."

She grinned and sank to the floor next to his chair, propping her knees up. He was glad that is she was going to keep on sitting with him, that she had at least grown to work with his humor. "When we reach the practical stage of training, we do throw a _lot_," she said wearily, her head bobbing forward. She was smiling again, though. "Before that, though, we practice theory and math. Trigonometry mostly, arc length based on trigonometric functions."

At her explanation, he finally glanced at her. She stared back for a moment until her eyebrows raised.

He said flatly, "You're joking."

"No, you are."

"No, I mean-" She grinned, as if very clever, and he rolled his eyes.

"Har har."

"Seriously, though! We do use trigonometry. Position yourself as the origin on an axis, or your hand, more precisely, and you know where the knife will land."

"I still think you're pulling my leg."

"Not sure you could survive if I did that."

"How cute! She's got jokes."

She smirked.

"If my target is on the ground and I'm in a tree, or vice versa, the distance from me to my target usually qualifies as the hypotenuse. I apply sine or cosine to estimate our distances and know how much force to apply for a given distance, recalibrating for wind or rain. If I have to jump to avoid another enemy's attack, or to compensate for their movement, then I just apply another set of equations based on the original motions for a truly three dimensional approach."

"Yeah, but how do you keep all of the equations straight in your head? And in a few split seconds?"

Her placid face turned to his and she asked, "Isn't it automatic for you to dock at a station port or cut around asteroids?"

"Well yeah, but… This is a ship," he countered. Sure there was math involved, and a lot of similar math to what she was expounding, but there were buttons he pushed and information he input. He was a cog in a wheel. A pretty damn important cog, but-

"And this is a body," she answered. "If you calculate enough times, throw enough times, hit your target enough times, even good aim becomes automatic. That's part of the reason they start training us so early. I entered the academy at eight, which was kind of late, actually, but I graduated at twelve. Those four years were mostly theory classes, well… for me, anyway. I was not the most dedicated student in practical arts until- later…" She took a deep breath, comfortable in the silence. By now she knew that Joker was not going to prod too much into her past. She seemed grateful. "Practice makes perfect."

"That's one we say, too," he responded as they finalized approach to the Mass Relay.

Sakura became very quiet. He did not glance at her, too focused on making it through the relay in one piece, but he noted it. Negatively charged energy from the spinning gyroscope arced out and caught the ship, pulling it forward into a committed approach vector. They were pulled through and launched out a millions of kilometers per hour. The stars around them pulled into long diamonds, and then blacked out into nothing. For less than a breath. All at once they jumped back into Omega's cluster. The eponymous station was a small dot against the screen, but all of the stars were once more smattered against the backdrop of space.

Sakura breathed again.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used that," she said quietly, holding to Joker's headrest with one hand and the data pad with the other.

"What, so you can kill a man who's trying to open your throat, but you can't go through a perfectly safe relay?"

"I'm beginning to think that with my feet on the ground I can do anything."

"Actually, Sakura, the average rate of systematic desensitization for humans is only slightly less than that of the average salarian," EDI chimed as her blue holograph projected into the semi-darkness. "The tendency is part of the reason that many aliens find humans so abrasive, their ability to quickly adapt to circumstances outside of their, 'comfort zone.'"

"Ah," Sakura answered. "It's not so much a matter of discomfort, though, EDI as… well… Awe," she explained, then fell quiet again. Joker could see a slightly embarrassed expression on her face, and did not take the easy mark she presented in showing it. "Thank you, though."

* * *

><p>Why are these so much fun to write? I don't know. They practically write themselves, though.<p>

I've been having a bit of a hard time with math for the past three months. Yes, that's all semester. But writing Joker and Sakura explaining their applications of it helps me cope.


	6. The Archer

Sakura was not what she could call a therapeutic speaker. She liked to talk, sure, and had never been particularly shy about making her thoughts known, but when it came to her deeper feelings, she was not the best at speaking through them. How could she share in words the thoughts and ideas that were so deep inside of her? Sometimes it felt like her thoughts were her truer self, masquerading in a cloak of flesh and hair. How could she pull those out and share them with the slightest expectation of understanding, much less agreement or, further fetched, support?

It was a process she was practicing more and more, despite her reluctance to share those innermost thoughts; interacting with the crew of the Normandy had necessitated it. In Konoha she could flub her way through painful conversations, usually there were tears involved, or sometimes say nothing at all. It was easier to forego words when all the people around her shared the same culture.

So when Grunt offered to spar with her, even without 'Krant' Shepard around to mediate, she took up the offer readily. Sometimes it was easier to talk with her fists than words, anyway. She and Grunt had an understanding about the battlefield that transcended words. Sad, though, that their understanding was not further developed in actual battle, but one of them tended to be redundant when the other was around.

The clawed fist caught her hand like a door catches a battering ram. He caught the second fist in much the same way and squeezed both appendages tightly. She was not using her full strength- neither of them wanted a hole in the hull of the ship- but at least with Grunt she could stop pulling some of her punches. Anything less would have insulted him.

She was about to employ her feet in a rather flashy acrobatic maneuver and fully free her hands, when Grunt grinned and whipped his arms behind him. She was pulled right along, stopping only when his massive skull collided with hers. Aside from the general non-comformity to human physiology, namely the projections common to most krogan foreheads, the skull was damned hard. Stars burst into her vision, and a moment later she fell to the floor boneless, blinking to tell the difference between the electrical hardware and the spots still dancing in front of her.

Grunt's spotty face appeared before hers and as he leaned forward, grinning widely. She groaned, wheezing a laugh, and lifted a hand to her forehead to assess the damage.

"No blood, Squishy," he offered, then extended his hand was well. How could there be no blood when her head was splitting in two?

Sakura had barely slipped her fingers between his when she was hauled off of the floor, starting the dizziness all over again. It did not help that he slapped her on the back with as much enthusiasm as he had head butted her. Regaining her foot, she established that she was going to have to keep an eye out for the head butt in the future. Endeavoring to end the fight, she did not return his backslap with an equally congratulatory punch to the face, but instead waved him off and took a few steps toward the elevator.

Shepard had allowed them use of the shuttle bay when they wanted to "rastle" as he called it, whatever that meant, but right now the couch in the lounge was looking pretty good. Her hand was glowing green when she finally made it to the elevator. Once inside, she pressed the button for her destination and leaned against the back wall.

"Damn krogan," she muttered, trying to assuage some of the pain. Truly, she was not bleeding, but she did not know how he had managed it; that hit had been like a chakra punch, bone against bone, big forehead to big forehead.

She was in the middle of contemplating it when Joker's voice broke over the comm, "Hey Sakura, can you come up to the bridge? I want to show you something."

"Can it wait, Joker? I just got head butted by Grunt," she replied, feeling some of the pain release under the application of Shousen.

"Come on," he needled her, "That's like a love tap. Err." His voice broke off into a hesitant pause, even though a crackle over the line told her he was still holding the comm open. "You guys aren't like… dating or something- are you?"

"What?" she demanded. Then quickly followed with a, "No! Joker, be serious!"

"All right, all right, calm down. Just youngest members of the ship and all."

"Joker…"

"Pushing each other on the playground."

"_Joker_."

"Head butts of love."

"Joker! _Stop_ talking!" She could practically hear his grin over the intercom as she glared up at the ceiling. What kind of notion was he playing with? Dating Grunt!

The doors opened to the crew's quarters and she quickly pushed the button to close them. Forget rest. The headache could wait. The greater pain was the one in her ass right now. Sakura knew he was joking, pulling her leg, teasing, whatever he wanted to call it, but she was going to show him just what it meant to push each other on the playground. She was going to push him through the floor.

Her finger mashed for the next floor up and she waited, her anger at a slow, steady simmer. The doors opened, and she expected to see the normal CIC layout, including personnel, but just beyond the Galaxy Map, there was an extra face.

Joker was hobbling toward her. There was a smirk on his face that made her expression flatten in annoyance.

"Aren't you supposed to be flying the ship?" she asked. "Or more importantly, waiting for me to come and deliver certain death?" He only grinned, coming even closer to her, ushering her back into the elevator.

"Come on," he said, pushing her very gently into the elevator. She allowed it, and did not remind him, again, how very lucky he was to have Vrolik's.

"But I thought you wanted to show me something?" she asked, letting go of some of her annoyance in light of curiosity. He had said come to the Bridge, hadn't he?

"I do. Let's go," he said, settling in next to her. He pushed the button to direct them back down one floor, and she sighed.

"Fine, but no more stupid jokes!"

"Yeah, I'm not agreeing to that."

Sakura released a slow breath and tried to remind herself that she had been through worse than this. Personal teasing about her forehead aside, there had been living with Naruto as a teammate. He had pulled more pranks than a little bit of light teasing. Come to think of it, Joker reminded her of Naruto a little. Striving to be more than he had been born to, something inside of him that other people thought limited him, constant joking, and lots of raw talent… Perhaps the similarities ended there. She did not know the pilot well enough to say. All analogies broke down eventually, anyway, but it was nice for a moment to remember her friend at his best and to know there were others like him out there.

She glanced up at him, and he met her stoic expression with a grin. "Oh, what, you're still mad? Ha, you'll be fine. Lighten up a bit." She shook her head, not bothering to correct his misassumption.

She matched her pace to his once off the elevator. It was not difficult, even with his slower pace. He still had a solid head of height over her, and his legs, though hobbling, were longer. They were about even in pace when walking normally. They veered to the left, straight toward the observation deck, and Sakura wondered what Samara had to do with what they were about to see.

But when the doors slid open, Samara was not present, and Joker simply made his way to the large window. Sakura watched from a distance as he pulled a vibrant yellow marker from his pocket and uncapped it. He glanced to his side, expecting to see her and then turned around slowly, beckoning her forward.

"Come here, you're supposed to be looking."

She stepped forward more boldly as he placed both hands against the glass window, the marker caught in the fingers of his right.

"What am I looking at?" she asked, besides the millions of blue and white and yellow specks beyond her. For a moment she was transfixed, wondering how she could have ever hated being on the Normandy. Even in the cramped quarters, and bad food, and sometimes smelliness of the other occupants, this view more than made up for her discomfort. Seeing it, she could understand a little bit more of why people had gone to space, why those few on earth in her day had wanted to go at all. She applauded them in the privacy of her heart.

"So, a few weeks ago, you were talking about not feeling right because all the stars look different." His eyes were still scanning the sky ahead of them. She waited, looking from him back out into the sky.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"EDI and I got to talking. She did a lot of the calculations, actually, but we came up with something for you since we've got a little bit of downtime while the IFF installs."

"For me?" she asked curiously, feeling a bit of shame at her former annoyance.

"Generally that's what people mean when they want to show you something," he intoned. Before she could respond, though, he added an excited, "Ah ha! There it is!" His hands were slow, but only because of his ailment. She could see an excitement in his eyes as he used the marker to leave a vivid, almost neon, dot against the glass.

The young woman watched with patience as he added several others to it. They looked a bit randomized as he added the last one, seven dots total, in a shape that was somewhat familiar, but…

"What is it?" she asked after a moment, trying to match the enthusiasm on his face, but effectively killing it with her question. He slumped even further, sadly possible, and then turned back to the window. To the dots he added straight lines, connecting the top set in an uneven quadrilateral. He did the same with the bottom dots, leaving two somewhat, but not completely, mirrored geometric shapes.

It was even more familiar now, like the edges of a dream that she could not remember if she had imagined or actually dreamed. As she took another step forward, she shifted slightly to the left. Even amongst all of the millions of stars beyond the glass, seven of them stood out, cemented in her mind by the aid of Joker's sketch. She shifted her focus back to the yellow markings and then back once more to the stars beyond.

She gasped suddenly in understanding, a hand lifted to her mouth. Her eyes cut to Joker, who was grinning in self-satisfaction.

"Annnnd, she gets it."

Sakura grinned, too, and turned back to the observation window. Reaching forward, she wiped her hand over the markings, even as Joker protested, "Hey, I just drew that!" It smudged and smeared for a few moments, but she was persistent. Finally, the window, hazy with marker residue, presented her an almost untarnished view of The Hunter.

The Archer, as her people knew him.

Orion.

"Oh, Jeff, thank you," Sakura breathed, one hand pressing to the glass. It was right there, all seven familiar stars, the first constellation she had learned by sight and without the aid of star charts. Even the Big Bear had not been as helpful for her in locating other stars. In Team 7, she had laid beneath those stars carefree, unknowing and blissfully naïve about the world, thinking it was as hard as it would ever get.

She turned back to him, smiling a watery smile and said, "Thank you."

He returned the smile with an easy, kind expression, and nodded, "No problem, Sakura."

Looking upward, she added, "And thank you, too, EDI."

"It is my pleasure, Sakura."

The young ninja nodded and then carefully kneeled on the floor. Not quite proper seiza, but she was not trying to impress anyone.

"Do- do you want some company?" Joker asked, sounding nervous, and a little uncomfortable. Glancing up, she grinned at him and shook her head.

"No, I'm OK. Thank you, though. Very, very much."

He left after that, twirling the yellow mark in between his fingers, but Sakura did not see him go. Those stars had been with her all the days of her life, had guided her on more than one occasion, and she had taken them for granted in a way that she had never thought she would have to repent of… but she was tired of holding onto anger, especially anger at herself, for things she could not control.

Looking at them as she sat on the floor, it just affirmed how very far away they were, a much smaller cluster from this vantage point than when she had viewed them on earth.

Naruto had had always lived with one foot and one hand in the future. Sasuke had lived with his entire self in the past, and Kakashi had tried to live a life that balanced both.

Would she do the same? Hold onto the past so tightly that there was no room for the future?

Sakura stretched her fingers against the glass, envisioning all that she could hold in a hand emptied. There was not much in this world that she knew, but she was learning every day; there were challenges and struggles and exciting things and lovely things. Konoha… Konoha was most likely gone. The whole world was different now, beyond anything she could have imagined going into that box.

It was not a question worth pondering whether or not she would have gone into it if she had known how things would turn out. She would have, for duty and honor, and because… Because being here, now, on the other side, she was alive. She wanted to live. Even now.

"But not just live," she thought as she stared at the Hunter, at those stars that surrounded it. How much could she hold in a hand that was made to be empty? There was only one way to find out.

* * *

><p>The Archer = The Hunter = Orion.<p>

My favorite constellation, and the inspiration for all of these stories, actually. I love driving at night and being able to catch a glimpse of his belt. From there, the rest is easy. And truly, it is the only constellation I can find without some searching, including the Big Dipper (or the little one for that matter.)

Thank you to my reviewers, XionNight, reality deviant, and Rc1212.

If _you_ like it, please leave a review.


	7. Cerberus Looks After Its Own

Here's where the chronology breaks down.

* * *

><p>"An incident has occurred that we feel you should investigate."<p>

Shepard hesitated, eyeing the enhanced blue eyes of The Illusive Man. The Cerberus leader met the stare unflinchingly, took a slow drag from his cigarette.

"I'm assuming this involves the Collectors somehow," he replied, already knowing the answer. Cerberus only played their cards close when they had to. Their clandestine point man was no different. The man would go for the jugular when opportunity served. The only reason he would withhold information was if he was waiting for the perfect moment to lay out his hand, and since he no longer needed to convince Shepard to fight the Collectors…

"No," he answered, taking a sip from the chilled contents of his glass. "But as it has occurred on the Citadel, and your capabilities are suited to his particular kind of… damage control, I'm requesting that you take an interest."

"_My capabilities?_" John thought to himself. "_Requesting?_" The day that the Illusive Man requested anything so formally was the day Udina invited him to tea with the rachni.

"Every moment we waste is a moment the Collectors have to prepare a strike against us. Just because we're docked at the Citadel doesn't mean we have time to go chasing down every crazy mission you throw at us. Aren't you supposed to have different cells able to do that?" he asked directly. There was no love lost between him and the man displayed through the QEC.

At the questioning look given him, the Illusive Man ashed his cigarette, then spoke, "An artifact found on earth was uncovered several months ago and shipped to the Citadel for further study." Not a diversion, then. All shared information led somewhere. John allowed himself to be baited, but he did not have to pretend to be happy about it.

"An artifact?" he asked, unconcerned with keeping the skepticism from his voice. He found artifacts all the time. It was the third qualification on his resume, right after killing Reapers, and fixing strangers' problems.

"It's Terran; a capsule of sorts, but scientists on earth were unable to figure out how to open it, so they sent it to the Citadel for further examination in hopes that archaeologists there might have more success."

Shepard himself was not generally interested in things that were dug out of the ground. Even securing the Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime had been a matter of duty; there had been little personal interest in its implication beyond immediate use. In hindsight, maybe not the best approach to alien technology.

"From what has been determined the artifact predates First Contact," the projection stated. There was silence between them as the information was digested.

It piqued his interest, probably just as the Illusive one intended. Before First Contact, humanity as a whole had been struggling to make it to Mars. The technology that had come after finding the Prothean cache had, as Anderson had eloquently explained, launched humanity forward centuries. An artifact from Terra that could resist attempts at opening did not sound right at all.

When he looked at the Illusive Man again, there was a hint of a smile on his projected face.

"So what kind of Terran technology did we have thirty years ago without the assistance of aliens that could hinder us now?" What kind of organization would let such an artifact, if it was truly human origin, be discovered so carelessly? And if it was Terran-make, which decades-old organization had technology so far advanced that alien-enhanced technology could still not open it?

Another slow sip from the tumbler's shallow contents. Ah, the rub.

"_That _is what we'd like you to ascertain," was the condescending answer, as if it needed to be spoken. Second only to the man's power was his unfailing ability to treat Shepard as if his baseline MO was the same as someone operating heavy machinery under the influence of rynchol.

"Now you understand our interest, and why this could possibly play a critical role against the Collectors. There hasn't been an attack since Horizon. Your actions have given them pause. There is time to investigate this," was the smooth reply. Shepard hesitated, not for lack of purpose or motivation, but in frustration with the man, himself. There would always be something. He would always find some reason to justify his reasoning.

John barely had time to scowl when the suited man added, "I'm forwarding the full file to Miranda. Please see her at your earliest convenience."

He did not bother waiting for the channel to close, just stepped out of the QEC's projection arenaand listened for the sound of the meeting table rising up from the floor behind him. They had been dancing this dance for months now, he and the Illusive Man, and while he felt some measure of gratitude towards Cerberus, gratitude that was always hidden behind statements like, "I didn't ask you to bring me back. I do what I do because someone has to stop the Collectors," he hated feeling like a puppet dancing on someone's strings. Every time he had to meet the man face to face it felt like the strings were getting just a little shorter.

Cutting through the armory, he paused, glancing at Taylor with the temptation to ask him if he knew anything about this development. Then he squashed the idea before he could open his mouth, kept walking towards the CIC. Jacob Taylor was less in the loop than he was, and damn but if he did not prefer it that way. Taylor knew what he wanted to know, needed to know, and trusted the Illusive Man about as much as Shepard himself did.

They got on well precisely because they were on the same wavelength, and Shepard did not need to foist his frustration onto the arms chief simply because of his uniform.

One floor down in Miranda's office was where he was more likely to vent his annoyance. Miranda was more trusting of the man, and more vocal about the need for Cerberus as a continued presence in the galaxy. He tamped down his anger as he stepped into her office. They were using Cerberus resources. Nothing more. The mission was important for humanity but in the end, its implications would reach beyond human interests. Losing his cool over the Illusive Man's far-reaching arm, nothing new in and of itself, would not help any of them.

"Shepard," she greeted, not raising her eyes from the console in front of her, "What can I do for you?"

"Your boss," he began without seating himself, "should have forwarded you some information about events occurring here on the Citadel. I'd like a copy."

She continued silently running her fingers over the keyboard, making him wonder if she had heard him at all. He was on comfortable terms with the woman who was technically his XO. They did not argue, at least, but Miranda seemed to him to keep herself busy with minding all of the details of their operation- expenses, overall ship maintenance, information communication, and the ever-flowing reports to her boss. She took on more than he had during his time as the SR-1's XO, but she did not complain, and she always got the job done. Perfectly.

He was about to reiterate his statement, when she reached for a data pad that came to life just as she touched it. With a smooth motion she tossed it to him, not bothering to see if he would catch it.

"The information has also been sent to your private terminal. Let me know if you'd like me to accompany the mission."

The data pad was as much of an invitation as anything, so he took the seat in front of her desk and quietly read over its contents. Miranda continued working on whatever task was in front of her as he did so.

Much of what the file contained was information the Illusive Man had already shared. The artifact had been located in the northern hemisphere of mainland Asia near the East China Sea. It had been unearthed by a Guanghui Solutions communications subsidiary team after one of their survey drones had picked it up beneath several meters of decayed flora. GS had no idea what to do with it, had found nothing else like it in the vicinity, and had sent it to their Home Office in Hong Kong. The techs there had been able to date the artifact almost to the day, but no one there had been able to figure it out, either. Someone understood, though, as Shepard and the Illusive Man had, the implications of its timeline- technology found on earth that predated First Contact.

Cerberus had been keeping an eye on it from then on, tracking its movements to the Citadel. GS still had their hands on it, but had outsourced its research to one of the R&D subsidiaries of Armali Council.

It made sense to Shepard to involve the Asari with ancient technology, but he wondered exactly what the tech group was going to get out of the deal besides credits. The Armali contacts he had made in pursuit of Saren had been ruthless, namely Nassana Dantius, but he vaguely remembered a woman on Noveria as well. The group was not hurting for money, but deals like this usually involved an agreement to share whatever tech came out of the R&D end. On whatever final agreement had been brokered between GS and AC, the report said nothing.

Shepard paused in his critique to wonder, not for the first time, how Cerberus had this information at all. Were they engaging the Shadow Broker? Did they just have that many operatives, even alien ones? Miranda had made no bones about the fact that the group's pockets ran deep. Shepard shook his head and turned back to the file.

The artifact, after a number of weeks had finally been opened but a series of ill-timed explosions in the Citadel facility of its testing had rendered most of the team injured and the technology was misplaced. C-Sec had been involved because of the collateral damage to surrounding areas of the Citadel, but the situation was as of yet unresolved.

"Misplaced?" he thought aloud and then re-read the lines with unveiled skepticism. An artifact under study by a joint-venture of two well-known development groups would not simply be 'misplaced' no matter how dire the situation. Then to involve C-Sec at all, the situation must have spiraled badly out of control.

"Sounds like an inside job to me," he said at last, and looked up to see Miranda regarding him with a small smile.

"But which side, is the question." She put her hands down at last, crossing her forearms on the desk as she leaned forward. She did not smile, but he could see the interest in the way her eyes held his. "It's no coincidence that the report makes no mention of what the artifact was discovered to be. Besides hiding their own ineptitude, there's no reason to cover up the contents. C-Sec's arrival destroyed whatever chances there was of CYA so there wasn't much use in that."

"Unless it was big," Shepard finished. Miranda did smile.

He sighed and reclined as far as the chair would allow, staring up at the ceiling. She sat up straighter. "Whatever was found wasn't Prothean. There's no way GS would have been able to hide it otherwise. The artifact _belongs_ to humanity."

He rolled his eyes toward her, and firmly said, "You don't have to start in on the sales pitch, Miranda. We're going." She smiled again and resumed typing.

He only needed to decide who to bring. Miranda had already volunteered, which was a different change of pace. She never refused to do a mission, but it was rare for her to put herself forward, either; always wanting to accomplish other tasks if someone else could fulfill an assignment without her. Her biotic and technical abilities would be useful. Corporate loved their security.

The other members of their team cycled through his mind as he considered what they would be walking into- inter-corporation violence, surely, which meant a high probability of mercs, asari ones given Armali's involvement. Hell, he would not have put it past them to have commandos involved. Biotics and high-powered firepower, of course. Any of his team could handle those details, but if they were going to keep a low profile while doing it?

"I want to meet at the dock, mission-ready in two hours. I'll inform Thane of the details. EDI," he called, as he stood.

"Yes, Shepard?" the AI politely replied.

"See if you can't find more information on C-Sec involvement with Armali Council, anything that might give us a lead on where to start looking for the artifact."

"Of course, Commander."

He gave a final nod to Miranda, who responded with an, "Understood, Commander," a smile in her voice.

Thane was, as usual, amenable to the situation's needs. Even after learning that the details did not pertain directly to the Collectors, he still agreed readily.

"My body is a tool that must stay active to stay sharp," he explained, and to that, Shepard could find nothing to say. Did this mean that the Kepral's was worsening? He frowned, and the assassin nodded for affirmation, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "I am well, Commander. I'll be ready in the time specified." Shepard took the words at face value and departed to prepare.

He hoped he could say the same thing as the drell. Weariness seemed to dog him these days. As he suited up for the mission, sighing at the familiar N7 logo, he realized that he had not slept since they last left the Citadel, some hours earlier.

Garrus was still at the main battery, yet unwilling to talk about what had happened with Sidonis. Preventing the man's murder was not something Shepard would regret, not if it spared Garrus the guilt that would inevitably come from it, but if it cost him his friendship with the turian… Shepard wondered sometimes about his own choices. The consequences were not always obvious.

Two hours later, with Miranda and Thane at his back, they stepped onto the dock. As they began to traverse their way through the docks and eventually into C-Sec Academy, EDI ran a cool explanation into his head set.

"The first interaction between C-Sec and Armali Council occurred nearly two weeks ago. Subsequent visits have been logged since that time-"

"Much to Armali's consternation, I assume," he interrupted.

"I am ill-equipped to make such a judgment," was her response. Shepard chuckled lowly, and shook his head.

"Nevermind, EDI."

"Very well," she answered as he booked Rapid Transit. As efficient as it would have been to stay in C-Sec, if they did eventually end up there, he did not want to make a plan in what could quickly become a fighting zone. He even less liked the idea of fighting in C-Sec. "A cross reference of C-Sec's most recent logs dealing with Armali Council shows that a detainee was taken into custody almost immediately after the first incident."

"Who?" he asked, curious at the two-week interval. Why did the Illusive Man wait this long to ask (ha) for assistance.

There was a brief pause, enough time to glance toward Miranda, before EDI responded, "Unknown. The detainee's race is marked as human, gender female. There is a picture, but no other information is available."

"Still a lead," Miranda spoke as they climbed into the cab. "_Sometimes_ the public sector's ridiculous bureaucracy pays off," she intoned, her sarcasm bordering on cheerful.

"I'm sure employees of the bureaucracy would agree," Thane added dryly.

"Touché."

"Thinking of switching jobs?" Shepard could not resist digging at the operative.

"Only if C-Sec can keep up with Cerberus stock options."

He smirked as Miranda took the wheel and put them into traffic. Shepard regarded his omni-tool as it beeped at him. The picture EDI mentioned projected into the cab's space, illuminating the face of a young girl, barely a woman. He grimaced at her youth, wondering why someone so young, and clearly human, would be involved in corporate espionage. It was not a flattering still, either. She had barely been upright before the holo had been caught; her posture was slumped, body tired, and her attire strange.

"EDI, run another cross reference for human women on the Citadel," Shepard began, but before he could complete his request, the AI interrupted.

"I have already anticipated this request, Shepard, and have run facial recognition software against all registered travelers in the Citadel. As I said, no further information is available."

Well. That changed things.

"Definitely an inside job," Miranda touted, and Shepard could not help but agree with her.

"It's difficult enough to smuggle living creatures onto the Citadel with all of its regulations, much less full-grown humans. It seems like GS wanted to let Armali do all the work and get none of the benefit. I wonder if GS even needed AC's help at all," the Commander pondered aloud.

"Doubtful," Miranda replied, continuing to drive smoothly. "More likely, GS would never have allowed the artifact to leave earth had they known how to approach it."

"I feel it necessary to point out that it is not uncommon for asari to hire non-asari mercenaries and spies," Thane interjected. Shepard glanced back at the drell, who was looking out the window. "A false lead, if you will, to distract interested parties from looking too closely at their less than scrupulous dealings."

"Can't say I don't admire their willingness to branch out," Shepard answered, thankful for the input. It was good advice to not be too quick to jump to conclusions about who was double-crossing whom. "EDI, can you find the last log C-Sec has mentioning our Jane Doe?"

"The most recent records indicate that Miss Doe escaped almost immediately after her detention."

"Who sprung her?" And again, he wondered at the time delay. Two weeks was plenty of time to secure the goods and then remarket them.

Another pause, and then, "It appears that she escaped alone and unaided." At this, both Miranda and Shepard glanced at one another. Her curiosity was more muted, but that he could see it in her expression at all showed that she too was intrigued by this.

"An outside job, after all?" the operative murmured, wonderingly.

"Citadel Security, while formidable, is not infallible. I myself noticed no less than four breachable spaces during my discussion with Kolyat," Thane added.

Shepard felt a wary tingle run down his spine and shifted uncomfortably, "What's the possibility that she's not just a spy, but some sort of assassin?"

"It's possible," Thane answered quietly.

"There were deaths at the AC incident," Miranda reminded them before Thane could answer.

"Then it's _very_ possible," he amended, ever soft-spoken.

"She looks so young," Shepard intoned, lifting his omni-tool once more for another glance at her visual.

"Don't discount the young," she said firmly. "Young women can do extraordinary things when they feel it necessary." He regarded her quietly, knowing immediately that she was not referring to Jane Doe. Her own experiences, however, tended to mean that she did not underestimate those she came against.

"So, we need to find Jane Doe and secure the artifact before it can be sold… Or more likely, find out who she sold it to so we can get back to the Normandy and chase someone around the galaxy," Shepard breathed, deactivating his omni-tool.

"Shepard," EDI intoned into the quiet of the cab. "I have infiltrated Citadel Security's online monitoring feeds and continued the facial recognition process for the two week period since the initial incident at Armali."

"That's… a… lot of information," Shepard answered, somewhat staggered by the amount of video she would need to sort through. "How much time do you need?" he asked, wondering if they would be able to return to the Normandy for a few hours of rest while she sorted. Not once did he doubt whether or not she would find something.

"I have already determined the last monitored location of Jane Doe. At the time of the still she was in Zakera Ward, approximately four kilometers from Captain Bailey's post."

"Good job, EDI," he said through a smile, impressed, trying not to mourn the nap that would not be. "Give us the exact location and time of the shot."

"Zakera Ward level thirteen," she began, doling out the entire location. Shepard grimaced. Down in the lower levels, farther away from the Presidium was where things started to get messy. Lots of gangs and thugs and less C-Sec intervention, especially with their already stretched resources. The idea in his head of a young thief, capable of breaking into AC, did not mesh with the idea of someone who slummed for fun. People with enough resources usually partied on the Presidium, didn't they? Rubbed elbows with corrupt diplomats?

He was not sure. Either way, it would have been faulty reasoning to completely rule out the possibility. With his luck, she would turn out to be the adopted grandchild of the turian Councilmember, who was a special, elcor-tear drinking snowflake.

Damn, he needed some sleep.

"The most current still was taken three minutes, forty seconds ago, and counting," came the pleasant voice of their AI.

This time when he met Miranda's glance, he only nodded, and the car sped forward into traffic toward Zakera Ward Level Thirteen.

When they stepped out onto the parking deck, all three immediately headed toward the elevator, cutting through the ever-present pedestrian traffic the Ward faced. The Widow nebula blocked all starlight of any form, and the station itself was not in rotation, thus the Citadel never slept. Zakera Ward was no different. If anything, with the opening of new bars like the Dark Star since the attack two years prior, it seemed like the Ward had seen a jump in traffic altogether.

"I doubt it needs saying, but we need to take Doe alive if at all possible. There are no leads from a dead informant," Shepard advised as they boarded the elevator for the lower levels.

"So says the Lazarus man," Miranda retorted. Shepard shifted uncomfortably. He still did not like to think about what Cerberus had gone through for their greater mission.

"You think it's advisable to kill the cameras when we get there?"

"I don't think so," Miranda said after a moment. "We're not killing anyone. We're not stealing anything. In the end, you can decide whether or not to turn Doe over to C-Sec again."

Level Thirteen was substantially quieter than 26, regardless of the time of day. He took a sharp right off the lift and headed in the direction EDI had provided. The trio was only a block away from where the last still was taken when an explosion sounded ahead of them. Shepard paused as vibrations rumbled beneath his feet.

"Shit," he said, reaching for his pistol. He broke into a sprint that the others matched. There was no way even C-Sec would ignore such an explosion, not when he could feel it at hundreds of meters away. There margin of action was growing slimmer.

There was dust before they reached the explosion site. It clouded the air, dampened the noise ahead of them. He heard gunshots and pulled the safety off of his pistol with a pressurized hiss. Miranda's unholstering caused a similar noise. From Thane he heard nothing. Another smaller explosion shimmied through the Ward, smaller than the first.

He heard shouting ahead of them before a stray bullet ricocheted off his barriers.

Sighing, he took up position behind a support beam, and glanced around the corner. The dust was still thick, slowly thinning and settling. He tried not to think about how much he was breathing in, how much Thane was breathing in.

He put away his pistol and pulled out the sniper rifle at his shoulder. Its scope cut through the cloud of dust with tech he was not entirely familiar with. Yet through it he could see a turian and a batarian peeking over a solid sitting bench, the top of which was riddled with stray debris, but no bullet marks. Behind them were two more aliens, not as lucky to have found cover. They were both pierced through their chest cavities with large pieces of metal that looked to have once belonged to the wall.

Following the aliens' line of sight out he quickly saw the girl, who looked even more bedraggled than the holo of her that EDI had found. She was bleeding from several gunshot wounds, though none looked to have hit vital areas. Her head was bowed, pink hair covering her eyes and nose. Her mouth was agape, heaving for air. She was not going to last much longer.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Shepard held up a closed fist, lifted two fingers and jerked the two digits toward the wall opposite him. Lowering the rifle, he glanced to Miranda, who nodded and slipped towards the wall, into the dust cloud, and out of view.

He replaced the rifle for his pistol once more and slipped out of cover into the dust cloud as well. It was worse the farther in he got, invading his nose and eyes. He wondered what kind of bomb would have to go off to destroy even part of the Citadel. Not that it was indestructible, but the Reapers had built it. It had lasted through hundreds of cycles.

Just as he began to pass through the last of it, he heard two loud cries, seconds later followed by the loud crunch of bodies slamming into the floor. "_Courtesy of one Miranda Lawson_," he pegged silently.

There was a gasp in front of him, followed by the soft patter of stilted feet. He imagined the young woman finding her footing, preparing to run. He cleared the aerated debris and new it to be so. She was looking behind her, away from him, her body twisted to run. He could see better now the damage she had taken. Not only to her arms and neck, but her legs had been nicked in several places. She looked like she had run through a whirlwind of broken glass.

She made it a step, head whirling forward again and saw him just as he lifted the pistol.

"Wait," he commanded, and her face twisted, fisting cocking so far backward it was almost comical. Despite how tired she appeared, she closed the distance between them with a speed he had never witnessed. The closed fingers caught the edge of his helmet, near his jaw, with surprising force before her entire body lit up in a wavering blue light. When it stilled, her arm dropped in a slow mimicry of attack. He watched her eyes go wide, body still following the path of her fist before she bounced into him, then promptly slid off of his armor to the ground.

She laid still, pink hair splayed around her head, partially covering her face again.

Stunned, himself, he lifted an armored hand to his helmet, glad that it had taken most of the blow, and yet was somehow still smarting. Thane was just opposite of their target, lowering his hand from the Warp he had unleashed on the young woman.

"That was… surprisingly easy," the drell offered, frowning.

"You didn't get punched in the jaw," he replied in good humor, agreeing with Thane's assessment.

"If your sore jaw is all we have to deal with, I'll take it," Miranda said as she approached. Without hesitation she kneeled next to the young woman, rolling her body over so they could see her face. The operative's omni-tool followed as she began a scan of the young woman. "No ID on her. No tech of any kind. None," she said, bemused. "She's either extremely skilled or… really lucky. I'm not sure which."

"I'm not sure I would call her lucky, looking like that," Shepard answered.

"Skill then," Thane offered, folding his hands behind his back. It had only been half an hour earlier they had been discussing her single-handed escape from C-Sec. Shepard nodded thoughtfully.

"All right," he said, bending down and taking her arm. When he stood, he tucked her small form over both of his shoulders and turned back towards the parking deck. "I know a Doctor Michel near C-Sec who can see to her wounds. If possible, we'll need to wake her to question her."

It was an interesting walk from the Lower Wards back to the car, but Shepard was used to pretending people he did not want to see did not exist. Thane and Miranda had also developed this talent fairly well. Fortunately, when pedestrians stared as they loaded the young woman into their taxi, none of them blinked an eye.

Unfortunately, Dr. Michel's clinic was closed. There was no sign, nothing to inform them of where the good doctor had gone. He knew of few other places that would take someone with no identification, in her state, without asking questions.

"All right," he said as he climbed back into the passenger seat. "To the ship," he said, pointing forward.

From the backseat, Thane shifted, the small pile of human body at his side motionless except for her slow, deep breathing.

"Shepard," Miranda intoned, ready to interrupt.

"We have to question her, Miranda. We can't do that if she's dead. This is the quickest way to ensure she's patched up and that everyone gets what they want. When we're done we can put her off of the ship and you can escort her to C-Sec yourself." He left out the part where he would be taking a nap while this occurred. Preferably he would sleep straight through the escort and en route to their next location in the search for this artifact. When his second said nothing else, only started driving, he said, "You have a better idea?"

"No, I just wish _you_ would from time to time."

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><p>So that was eleven pages. Still a drabble, but there's some thematic continuity at least.<p>

Uuuuggggh, I loved this one, but really it's a sandwich between the other two I am polishing right now. Hur hur, chronology whut.

Oh, yes, and if you enjoyed this or didn't, please leave a review and perhaps tell me why? Thank you!


	8. Escape in the Sea of Stars

Occurs before "Cerberus Looks After Its Own"

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><p>By the time she was seated and restrained, her head was fully cleared, and she was almost comfortable with waiting- waiting to see what they wanted, who they thought she was, waiting for any kind of information.<p>

The woman strode back and forth, holding a flat piece of plastic that looked like a clipboard.

She was stroking it over and over with her index finger as she paced slowly, not even looking at Sakura, but none of the other people in the room seemed to find the motion luridly strange, so the young captive did not consider it as an avenue for exploitation. She remained focused on her captor, green eyes sliding back and forth in time with the lithe, blue frame. She tried not to focus too much on her strange appearance; she had seen stranger, even blue skin once or twice. Granted, Kisame had not had tentacles on his head, but as for the rest of her, the woman seemed mostly normal.

Instead, Sakura watched her movements, only half-listening as she droned on and on about some breach of security, or conflict with the powers that be. So spouted the tinny voice from a box near the door, and her captor was not waiting to give the translator silence to help Sakura understand. "_Easy for her to say_," the young ninja thought, "_since she was not the one about to be dissected by strangers._"

Her departure from the stasis box begged so many questions that she was not entirely sure where to start. Where was Kakashi, who had promised to be there when she woke? Or Tsunade? Or most importantly, Naruto? For that matter, where was _she_; where was this strange place she had woken? Many other questions followed those, but she pushed them aside to wait. They would all have to wait. Until she was safely away from this place and could collect herself, she would have to stay focused on the task at hand.

The woman was still talking, recollecting the damage that had been caused in Sakura's escape. As she continued to eyeball the woman, giving her half-attention, she discreetly channeled chakra. None of her captors, not even the woman standing only a leg-length away, reacted to the trickle of energy. But the new power in her limbs was strong and free-flowing enough to tell her that her restraints were mundane things, not even themselves twined with chakra.

It was puzzling that they were not trying harder. The tranquilizer had worked its way through her system, and she was tired, but not so much that she could not function. This too they must have known. So why keep up these pretenses of questioning her? The obvious answer to her confusion was that this was a trap.

"Pay attention," the blue woman snapped righteously. Sakura's eyes widened, already on her, but she had been caught with her focus waning. The two guards behind the woman, the strange-looking ones with pointy back-of-the-head projections and sharp teeth, snapped to attention as if she had been chastising _them_. Sakura felt a surge of relief-mixed anxiety. _Was_ it all a ruse? Were they really so lax in their duties that they too were zoning out?

She was after all, a small, normal looking girl, who had already been caught once. She could see it in their stances as they relaxed that they were dismissive of her.

Good.

Perhaps.

"Lack of cooperation will be noted in your file, which is already quite thick as it stands," her captor intoned, staring down her pretty nose imperiously. Even though the translator's words were flat, the tone carried across cultures.

Sakura cocked her head at the woman, who stared back without reservation or concern. "Now, if you're ready to proceed, you may ask what questions you will before your C-Sec escort arrives, at which time you will be detained and appointed an advocate, who will guide you through the rest of your judicial proceedings."

She did not know what C-Sec was, deducing that it was some organization or acronym she was not familiar with, but questions, access to information, she understood. That, and that she was running out of time. Whoever C-Sec was, they were already on their way. How much she could trust the information was instinctively debatable, but it was a starting place.

"Where am I?" she asked, first and foremost.

"You are in a holding cell in the Zakera Ward of Citadel Security," was the slowly spoken response, her tone indicating that this was common knowledge, that Sakura was not quite well.

"And where is the Zakera Ward of Citadel Security? What country are we in?" From nearly anywhere in Fire, she could deduce how far she stood from Leaf. If she were no longer in her country, then that raised more questions. Where was she, and why? Sand was still on good terms with Leaf. If she were in Cloud, it would not be too far to get to Gaara's Village for sanctuary.

Other countries might be more problematic.

The young ninja expected another sarcastic response, but what she got was a careful, considering look. Not a respectful one, but one that questioned her mental faculties. She resisted the urge to sigh. They probably thought she was crazy, anyway, as much destruction as she had caused, most of which she did not entirely remember. The memories were hazy as the jutsu had worn off slowly. Her knuckles still ached, though.

Placating her prisoner, she said, "You're in Council space, specifically Inner Council space. The Citadel. Fourth arm. Zakera Ward."

It was possible that was meant to truly narrow things down, probably condescendingly if her tone was any indication. The woman had been nothing but bitchy since entering the room, but nothing was any clearer from the information, Sakura realized glumly. She filed the pieces away and cleared her throat to ask finally, "What year is it?"

The blue woman sighed, but did not try to shut her down. She answered flatly, "The year is twenty-one, eighty-five." She turned and nodded to the guards, apparently tired of the conversation. One stepped out of the door for a moment, the other fixing his strangely dark eyes on Sakura.

Her anxiety was rising again. If the "escort" mentioned was nearly here, she was running out of time. This time, though, her mind was clear enough to control her thoughts, emotions. She was operating less on instinct than careful thought, but she still had to move quickly.

"I just have one more question," she called.

"And what is that?" her captor sighed, tired in a way that Sakura did not understand, and did not care to. Her body was still turned slightly away as she regarded her clipboard.

"Are you ready?" Sakura asked evenly. The woman turned to her, expression curious, mouth open to clarify the question, and Sakura moved. She sprang out of the seat without hesitation, tipping the heavy chair backward in her haste. Her metal manacles rang with tinny chimes as she rent them apart, and her captor could not back away before Sakura grasped her shoulder, dropping both of them to the floor. There was no time to cry out, even, because Sakura was already pushing off again, flipping into a kick that disabled the first guard. His body ricocheted off of the wall in time for his chin to catch Sakura's gloved fist, and he crumpled. The second stared, dark eyes wide as they met her green ones, remembering too late that he was supposed to be reacting to her escape, but by then she was already on him. The young ninja's fist caught his armor squarely in the chest, approximately where the human heart was, as much to test his armor as physiology. He hit the wall with a crunch, gasping before his body went slack and he slid to the floor, eyes rolling closed. She could see a fist-sized dent against his rounded armor, and above his head there was now a respectably sized dent against the wall.

Her chair hit the floor with a heavy clang.

Sakura winced at its harsh sound and quickly glanced at the three bodies on the floor before casting eyes to door. They were all out cold, hopefully alive, but if not… She did not want to kill anyone if she did not have to, especially people who were just doing their jobs, but she would not be hindered by regret in light of necessity.

The door must have been solid, but there was no way to tell how much so. She had not heard so much as a sound from it during interrogation. It did not possess handles that she could see, and she could see no way to force something to jam it should her collectors arrive early.

"_C-Sec is coming_," she thought, whoever, or whatever, that was. More strange creatures with unending questions for which she had no answers. It seemed likely, given her luck. "_Time to go_." With light feet, she turned her attention toward the high window at the end of the room. It spanned the length of the cell and descended from the ceiling. From the floor it looked more than large enough to accommodate her size.

She placed her hands flat against the shiny, sleek wall. Chakra flowed into her fingers, met the wall and held it as tightly as a clamp. With the same energy in her feet, she quickly scaled upward until the glass was before her face, butting the wall seamlessly. Her muscles sang with the effort, as if they could recall their silent dormancy and were able to again rejoice.

Sakura glanced back at the two guards and her interrogator, then to the door. The three were still, but if she held her breath she could imagine hearing something behind the door. Turning back to the window, she lifted her hand and gritted her teeth. It was just glass. It could be picked out like any splinter. Wincing, she rained a fist solidly against its surface, turning her head away at the last second to avoid the shatter.

But there was nothing, not the soft prickle of debris on her face nor the tinkling sound of shattering. She carefully opened her eyes. There was a crack where her fist had landed, but nothing more, and it was barely fist-shaped at all.

"_Not glass, then,_" she realized with a heavy breath. "_Fine, if they want to play hard_." Grimacing, she pulled her fist back again. The energy was there, and it wanted to be used. It accumulated in her fist, her arm a willing channel for more beyond that, even.

She took another deep breath and narrowed her eyes again, trying to prepare against the explosion when the door behind her opened with a hiss. Her head snapped back to the entrance to see another of the pointy-headed creatures in the door way, holding a weapon similar to the ones the others had held. This time, though, it was already pointed at her. Behind him were a number of humans, all holding such weapons, but they were all wearing the same uniform, and looking at her with the same incredulity.

"Shit," she breathed and unleashed her fist.

There was an explosion of metal and electricity. There was fire in her face and ears and mouth. She felt a sharp beneath her hands and feet up into her stomach as the wall beneath her disappeared.

Then she was floating in cold air, wind rushing at her cheeks and through her hair, pulling the fire out of her eyes. She knew the feeling of free fall, and opened her eyes in time to see the ground almost meeting her. Her arm went out instinctively, energy reflexive in her powerful hands. There was no explosion, but as the chakra circled out from her hand, the pale, reflective ground crumpled beneath her. A split second later when the rest of her body followed, a hollow in the ground opened to catch her.

She did not black out, but the pain was almost immediate. She could not feel her arm, and did not know right away if that was a good or bad thing. It had taken the brunt of the shock, her right arm, her right hand. She curled further in on herself as the first piece of debris rained over her back. Others quickly followed; metal, heavier than glass, but no worse than chips of rock.

Sakura lifted her head as the last of the debris finished falling. Her breath was shaky, her body beginning to reveal small aches and pains from the fall, or the initial capture, but her mind was still clear. A quick glance up showed that she had fallen from several stories, maybe six, certainly four at least. Then she took a quick glance forward and backward as she climbed out of the sinkhole she had left in the sidewalk.

This was the street level. She had seen it before on her way into the holding cell. She knew now that she had to stick to the back alleys. The main street was too dangerous. She would be spotted for sure. As it was, people were already staring. There were non-combatants all looking at her, the blue women, bug-eyed beings with long faces and two vertical horns on their heads, even a few more of the pointy-headed creatures her guards had been. There were some like her too, though. All of them were staring.

There was a shout as she found level footing, stumbling slightly, and she turned in its direction. More uniformed people were coming, humans and strangers alike. Wherever she was, she was far, far from Konoha.

She ran.

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><p>Thanks Northern-megas and Uzzle Cue for your reviews. They are my petrol, as it were.<p>

Northern-megas, to answer your question, my strongest urge is to have Sakura end up working at Huerta Memorial. Given my thoughts on where this is going to go, and what her feelings about 'home' will be closer to the end of this anthology, it is foremost in my mind. I've also considered having her enlist in the Alliance. She's already a damned good soldier; knows how to respect the chain of command but is also resourceful enough to branch out on her own. Except, even if she could move up to an officer's rank in the span of six months (which is unrealistic even with the best timetable,) the likelihood of her interacting with Shepard or the crew again is slim to none. You go where the mission takes you. I hope that answers your Q :)


	9. Out of the Box

Sometimes there were dreams. She dreamed of Team 7 and that stupid-wonderful bell test, and how it would be the same test she would give her students in the future. The dreams were hazy and pleasant and she swam through them without lucidity until a harsh feeling slammed them all into a flat line. The sound resumed at a steady beep-beep-beep.

She awoke to bright lights, the sound of a heart monitor and the cool feeling of chilled air. Her heart was racing with such a rushed enervation it could only have been contrived. She blinked at the too bright ceiling, wondering at the dilation of her pupils. Her body was warm, and her nose- Her nose was working. Even if the smell was not the same, she knew a hospital when she felt it.

She glanced slowly around without turning her head. It was a large space, and it was metallic, cold, just like the first place she had woken. No techs with knives this time, though, which was a plus. She also did not feel restrained as she had under interrogation. Was she a patient, then?

What exactly had happened since she had fallen asleep? No, not fallen asleep… She remembered the fighting, creatures loosing strange projectile weapons. None of them arrows, but fast, painfully effective, and tiring to dodge after a while.

"Ah, you're awake. Good," a woman spoke from across the room. Sakura glanced at her, an older woman with neatly bobbed hair. She sat up, displeased she had given herself away, but seeing no more benefit in keeping up the pretense. As the woman approached her bed, Sakura took in her clean, modest tunic and leggings. Even more striking was the absolute calm in her expression. Her pale green eyes did not deviate left or right, but stayed on Sakura, and the young woman knew right away that she was in this woman's domain.

"I am," she replied to the statement, her voice cracking. Before she could ask, or try to swallow, a cool cup of clear liquid was extended to her. She took it warily, eyeing the body attached to it, even as her attendant smiled at her.

"Just water," the woman said. "No sedatives or anything of the sort. We've been waiting for you to wake, after all."

Tired of being chased and attacked, she could not stop the edgy, "I'll know if otherwise," that popped out of her mouth before she took a hesitant sip.

"No doubt," the woman replied, her calm finally breaking to smirk. "The Commander informed me of the exploits that have been attributed to you. My name is Doctor Chakwas. I have been attending to you for the past twelve hours. During which time, you have surpassed my expectations for a speedy recovery."

The liquid hit her parched throat blissfully, then kicked her stomach like a booted foot. She passed the cup away, grateful she had only taken a sip, and waited for her stomach to settle, willing it to not rebel. It certainly tasted like only water, as promised, but she could not remember the last time she had eaten something. That was part of how her problem with her attackers had begun.

"Why can I understand you?" she asked as her mind began to cloud with thoughts of food. Now that her stomach was active again, it knew exactly what it wanted. Her eyes, though, glanced at her bare arms, as she tried to remember her brief difficulty with her interrogator. The limbs were already scabbed over, but clean, the cleanest she'd been since before she had gone into the box. She glanced up as her attendant began speaking again.

"I augmented you with a translator while you were sleeping. It's removable through minor surgery, but we thought it might be helpful given the state you were in when we found you."

That was… unexpected. Sakura's eyes narrowed in the memory of the blue alien, the smooth rolling words she had spoken, none of which Sakura could understand before she had turned on the localized transmitter. It had broadcast words she could understand without being invasive. Different circumstances that would lead others to a more direct solution made her wary. That, and she was not used to her body being manipulated without her consent.

"We?" she asked carefully, trying for a non-inflammatory angle as she glanced up at the doctor, trying not to think about what else a translator might do. And if it needed surgery to be removed exactly how invasive was it? _Where_ was it?

A hissing sound caught her ear and she glanced left to see a man in black and white attire walking towards them through a large opening she had not seen before. Just behind him was a lizard-man. She blinked rapidly at the latter's appearance, trying not to show how unsettling his unusual skin coloring was.

"We," the new human reiterated.

"Commander, Mr. Krios," the doctor greeted, not stepping away from Sakura. Both paused, the man standing equidistant between them, and the lizard-person just behind, which was still a bit closer than she would have liked. She was reminded of Itachi and Kisame, the relationship the terrorists had conveyed, and wondered at the strength of both of the newcomers. The lizard-man was not grinning in the sadistic way that Kisame always had. He, instead, had a cool calm that radiated into the space around him. Yet despite his presence, he was not the one in charge.

No, that position belonged to the man in black and white. The doctor had deferred to him, to some extent. This was still her domain after all. For the immediate future, though, Sakura could not yet decipher the hierarchy at play.

The Commander paused, regarding her for a few moments, taking in her hair, her arms, and glancing clinically to the part of her that was still covered with bed clothes.

"I'm glad to see it was just the situation and not a personal resentment against me," he said, more to the doctor than to Sakura herself.

The woman smiled slightly and finally turned away, moving gracefully toward a desk on the other side of the room. "A nice change from norms, then," she added with a touch of humor in her voice. Just beyond was a large glass window where people were eating at a large table and kitchen facility.

It was the first time she had noticed them in detail. Sakura shrunk slightly, feeling exposed, even though none of the people beyond were looking at her. If necessary she could high tail it out of here naked. That didn't mean she would like it.

"Who are you all?" Sakura asked, holding the blanket higher on her chest, casting her eyes once more to the lizard-man. He was so still he looked as though he had not moved. His black, black eyes, strangely-pupiled, were staring at her unflinchingly. Then in tandem they blinked, a clear membrane sliding over the eyes without inhibiting their vision. She could tell because the pupils remained locked on her.

"I take it you forgot clocking me in the jaw, then," the Commander responded, which was not an answer. And since it was neither a question, Sakura did not feel particularly inclined to respond to the allegation. If she had punched the man at some point, then he obviously must have deserved it. He smiled, reading her face, her reaction, and nodded.

"I'm Commander Shepard. This is Thane Krios, and your caretaker until now has been Doctor Chakwas," he said by way of introduction. "You're currently on the SSV Normandy, an Al- a Cerberus vessel, docked at the Citadel, waiting for information."

She watched his face closely as he spoke. He was young, hair cropped close to his head in a way she had only before seen in ascetic monks, and his bone structure was not something she was familiar with, a squarer jaw than those of most people she knew. He was very much human, though, which was more than she could say for the red-throated, green man just behind him.

"So we're still at the Citadel?" she asked with a grimace, trying to keep information relevant. It had only taken a few hours after her escape from her interrogators to figure out that the Citadel was the huge mechanism they had been standing on, floating in a sea of stars. Why, or how, a metal ship would be attached to it, she had no idea, much less why a ship would be metal at all. It certainly would not float. The only determination she had been able to make of her situation after that was that she was either still asleep, or in a genjutsu so strong and weird she had no hope of breaking out of it. She had tried. The wound mark was still on her hand.

"We are," Shepard replied firmly. The doctor returned from her seat at her desk and lifted her open hand toward Sakura, who shied away from the touch. The digits stopped short, intentionally, from the look on Chakwas' and Shepard's faces. Her hand never made contact, though.

A glowing orange light appeared around her arm, similar to the kind Sakura had seen the other creatures who had attacked her create. Its form was almost solid, it had a definite shape, as a large disc of light poised at the woman's wrist began rotating. She waved the projection over Sakura's head, then quickly over her chest and legs.

"Everything looks good," she said factually after a moment, still staring at the orange thing, and then pulled her hand away. It disappeared, and only then did Sakura relax fractionally. Turning to the Commander, who was still in a staring at Sakura, Chakwas said, "She's still exhausted, of course, but recovering very nicely. I'm most impressed. "

Shepard nodded, smiling to the doctor for her efforts, then turned back to Sakura. The lizard-man was still not moving. The commander was still smiling, when he said, "Guanghui Solutions. Armali Council. You stole something they're interested in. Any idea where it is now?"

She blinked at him.

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

Shepard blinked back. He continued to stare at her for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Then he turned to Chakwas, whose expression was grim. She shook her head, shrugging.

"Dr. Chakwas seems to think that you aren't suffering from memory problems. Want to try again?"

Sakura frowned mightily and clenched her fist in the blanket against her clavicle. She felt a rush of anger towards him and the doctor both, the lizard man, too, only made worse by frustration that had been building for months. It would have been one thing for her to be called a liar if there had been cause for it. She could have kept her cool, shrugged it off, turned their confusion to her advantage, but she still had no idea where she was, or her clothes at the very least, and there remained the fact that she was not dissembling in the least.

Before she could lash out at them in her consternation, the doctor pushed the cup of water into her hand again. The woman was smiling at her, and the offer of water was the the language of sympathy. Perhaps it was because she was a doctor, or maybe a human woman, but Sakura felt connected to her. The connection might have even been real, or maybe she was letting her guard down and simply imagining it. Whatever the reason, it helped diffuse some of her frustration. She took another sip of the cool liquid to calm her nerves, and this time her stomach was ready. She drank greedily, and when she finished, held the cup out for more.

The last time she had pressed her luck, she had ended up on the business end of weaponized projectiles, but this time she was valuable. They thought she had something they wanted. Until they thought otherwise, she had bargaining power. Could she take that route? Her negotiation usually involved her fists, but the last time she had started punching holes through walls, she had ended up on the street for two weeks. Either way, it was time to try a different tack.

Taking a deep breath, she eyed the man cautiously, and asked, "You're Commander Shepard?"

He nodded tolerantly and explained, "That's me," as if she might have already known it.

"What year is it?"

Shepard regarded her much the same way her blue interrogator had, curiously, looking to Dr. Chakwas again for a moment. Sakura did not miss the curious look that passed between them, nor the subtle shifting of the lizard-man as his leather jacket whispered the movement.

"It's twenty-one eighty-five," Shepard said cautiously. Sakura nodded, dropping her eyes to her lap. Her captor had given her the exact same year, the same look.

This was… beyond unexpected.

None of the contingencies she had imagined, been prepped for, had been of this nature. For a moment, she felt out of her depth. The calendar of those lands that extended beyond the great ninja countries was not one that she had ever paid much attention to, but she remembered enough to do rough estimates in her head that would have her believing she had passed years in stasis. How many exactly was yet to be determined; their calendar had taken presence over the twelve-year cycle.

But the possibility that she had passed years, a decade- maybe even two decades was not a scenario she had been prepared for. Her brain tried to remember the exact year it had been on the foreign calendar, and could not. She needed their timing, records of some kind before she could calculate today. She was vaguely aware of the eyes still on her, still waiting patiently. But they were not threatening her, had not harmed her. Her stomach rumbled loudly and the doctor chuckled.

"While we're waiting, do you mind, Doctor?" the Commander asked of the older woman.

"Of course," she answered, and strode from the room with the same poise Sakura was coming to identify with her. Her eyes followed the woman as she reappeared on the other side of the large glass window, and at her movement the others at the table looked up, turned to look at Sakura and the Commander.

She felt her face flame. They stared for a few seconds before turning back to their meals, hunching forward in what she could only assume was gossip.

"Could you tell me again about those… uh, those people? The ones you mentioned who think I have something of theirs? Why do they think I have something that belongs to them?" she asked, turning slightly to kick her legs off of the table as she wrapped the blanket around her backside, tucking it firmly below her seat to keep herself from being more exposed. It still felt drafty, and cool. Where _were_ her clothes?

Her eyes followed the doctor again to see her speaking to a man in the kitchen, then she began the walk back to them, smiling at Sakura through the glass.

Shepard sighed, and she gave her attention back to him as he dropped his arms to his sides. He grabbed the chair from Chakwas' desk and perched himself in it in front of her. "Human Guanghui Solutions from earth and asari Armali Council- they created a joint R&D project to study an artifact recovered from earth because GS couldn't open it themselves, much less figure out what it did. Someone commissioned you to steal the artifact from them." Sakura frowned as the information continued to pour out of his mouth. She at least understood what 'R&D' meant, even if she did not recognize the other names. Earth she understood, but… that was metaphorical, right? Unease was wrapping around her stomach.

Chakwas returned and waved the orange thing at the windows, causing them to tint so darkly that she could not see through them. She smiled her gratitude, but the expression dropped as Shepard continued in the steady, patient tone of someone not wanting to repeat themselves. "You broke into the lab and stole the artifact. I'm not interested in who put out your contract, I think," he added in an aside to the lizard-man, "but I _am_ interested in the artifact. Not me personally, but my… patron is."

"Your patron is… Cerberus?" she asked, trying to recall what he had said in his greeting.

"He is," Shepard affirmed, and again, Sakura got the impression that she should find this information significant. But at the moment _everything_ was significant because each was a puzzle piece that added up to a bigger picture, and everything was insignificant because none of it made something she recognized as familiar.

Priorities were juggling in her mind. What she needed- wanted… was something about Konoha, about her friends and teammates, what had become of them. What had become of her? Context, something at the back of her mind whispered and she clung to it. The only other thing she was sure of was that Commander Shepard and the others, perhaps even those who had taken her prisoner, wrongly believed that she had stolen something that did not belong to her. She had stolen nothing; well, nothing except food. Certainly no artifacts. In this, at least, she could be certain, could try to acquit herself.

"Do you-" she paused trying to speak around the tightness in her throat. "Do you know what the artifact looked like? What it held?" An artifact from earth, the ground, surely, but her mind treacherously whispered they indeed meant the planet. An artifact that people had been unable to open; had created a research project to study, and somehow she had become embroiled in it all.

"No," he said clearly, not unkindly, but not mincing words, and Sakura felt a dreadful certainty settle into her stomach. It must have shown on her face, because the commander frowned up at her and continued speaking. "We were unable to determine what was actually contained in the cache that was found on earth, only that it was sealed in such a way that was very difficult to open. We assumed that you started the incident at the AC lab that destroyed the findings?" He was watching her face as he spoke. She was watching the floor.

"Sorry," she said, and felt no better when she realized she meant it. She had caused that accident, after all, in her panic. People had died because of her carelessness. Not because of her lack of strength or her inability to help them. People had died because she had panicked.

"Sorry?" he asked, leaning back into the chair.

"I-" She paused and chuckled, her brow furrowing. The laughter was flat and did not carry much past the lizard-man.

Her countenance fell all at once, but the tears she held at bay. The mission was not over. She might be off track. Things might have gone wrong, but the mission was still on.

Sakura took a deep breath lifted her eyes again, hardened as they were, to the man's face. "I think _I'm_ what you're looking for."

"I think we've established that," he responded quickly, hearing her words.

She shook her head slowly, then responded, "I am what you're looking for. The…" Her lip curled around the word, "Artifact." Even as she spoke the word, she shook her head to dispel the idea. "I woke up in a laboratory a few weeks ago, and I panicked. The people were unfamiliar, and I think they had begun an autopsy of sorts…" She frowned again, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Not sure why since I'm very clearly alive."

"Wait, _you_ were in the box?" Shepard asked, his voice low but clear. It was not a question of accuracy, but incredulity, and Sakura did not bother to answer. She simply held his gaze, waiting as he glanced from the doctor to the lizard-man, and then slowly back to her.

The frown on his face shifted from dutiful and hard to something softer, and she clenched the edge of the table. In her mind there was only one thing he could know about the situation that she did not.

"How long was I in there?" she asked, then more softly, "Do you know?"

He did not glance away again, but held her stare, gaze still softened. "I'm not sure, but the information I was given managed to date your… stasis pod to two hundred years of age."

It was not so much a physical blow as a sudden tightening in her heart that hit her. The doctor was at her side suddenly, surprisingly quick- or… maybe time was moving more slowly? She was holding her shoulder fast, and Shepard had stood in a motion that her eyes did not follow. The tightness raced from her chest to her throat, to her jaw and face. She rolled her shoulder, trying to shrug off the hand, but could not summon the strength.

"I need to..." She wheezed for a breath that would not come, even though she knew her lungs were fine. She felt fine. Nothing in her body remotely ached. Two hundred years could not have passed. The seals were not even _meant_ to last that long. "My friends… The Leaf," she muttered, leaning forward to climb to her feet. They touched the cool metal floor and almost remained flat as her legs refused to support the weight.

The doctor was still holding her at the shoulder, but it was Shepard who held her upright and lifted her back on the bed.

Sakura stared up at the ceiling, unable to stop the sudden shaking in her body. "I have to do something," she said all at once, and the thought calmed her. Her shaking was subsiding. Or maybe that was the syringe that she saw escaping her arm, still in the doctor's hand. "I have to do something," she repeated as her heart slowed, shifting her eyes between the doctor and the Commander.

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><p>Thank you Luka1Sakura, and UzzleCue for reviewing.<p>

If _you_ like (or don't) the story, please drop me a review and say so. Reviews are the only recompense I get for putting this together, so help a sister out :)


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